


The Azalea

by niahana



Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Florist AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 04:32:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10801776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niahana/pseuds/niahana
Summary: Near works as a florist in a popular flower shop, but finds a lack of sincerity in most of the consumers that use their service. That is, except for one rough but reoccurring character.| Florist!AU | Meronia |





	The Azalea

Springtime meant a high peak in sales at any florist. Flowers were always a necessity for many events and occasions, but there was something about spring that made them all the more popular. The Earth coming back to life after a particularly harsh winter made love go airborne, which had hopeless romantics around the world ready to treat their loved ones. It was a harmless but sweet practice, one that made customers and business owners alike eager and ready for the season. Some, though, didn't quite find the same appeal.

A white-haired male stood at the counter of the Orchid Boutique, one of the finest flower shops in the area. The store had just opened, with only a few strays wandering around, so he stood there cutting wilted leaves from a set of display fauna, hand smoothed against his left cheek. A gold-plated name tag just above his mint green apron read ‘My name is Near: Please ask me for assistance.", but the look on his face said otherwise.

Working at a florist shop, Near came across many different types of people, all here for the same thing. To say he was grouped in with those who didn't understand the flower craze would be somewhat incorrect. Flowers were beautiful, filled with age-long symbolism and history. Each had their own unique message and cultural importance. He easily understood why they became something to give to loved ones, but that was never the issue; it was more that he felt their reasons weren't genuine.

What used to be something filled with meaning and love became, what was to most, an obligation. Near paused his leaf-picking to scan around the shop, looking at the customers who had just begun to filter inside. Most were average, but not even a minute of searching passed before he found exactly what he expected. Strolling in came a man dressed in a suit. His expression was uncaring with the body language to match. The stranger looked through the flowers for maybe a moment, but went directly to the already organized bouquets. Picking one up, he examined its contents before he stuffed it back down into the bin, only to repeat the process again.

This happened several times before he seemed to give up and choose at random. With the flowers nearly upside down in his hand, he made his way to Near at the counter. Keeping a peaceful composure, he straightened himself to greet the man. "Did you find everything alright?"

The stranger gave the white-haired male a goofy smile as he handed the bouquet to him. "Yeah, just these. Thanks, kid."

Near held back the need to roll his eyes as he effortlessly put the flower price into the register. "That will be eleven dollars and ten cents." The man sifted through his pockets to find his wallet. Near knew that what he was going to ask was obvious, but to fulfill his own satisfaction, he proceeded. "What's the occasion?"

As he was fiddling through his money, the guy gave him a scoff held up by a grin. "I kinda ticked off my lady friend and now she won't talk to me. I'm hoping these will loosen her screws."

And there it was, just what he expected. There was no remorse, or guilt, or any feeling at all. The man was so nonchalant it almost made him cringe. As soon as he was handed the money, Near transferred the flowers to him and offered a lackluster "Have a good day". Without any care in the world the man left, happily strolling out of the store, leaving Near to his work once more.

The same type of transaction would happen numerous times as the day grew later. Customers would walk over, giving their half-hearted explanations, and then they would leave. None of them seemed interested in what they were doing, as if this was just another chore of the day. Normally, there would be a least a few genuinely thoughtful individuals seeking their flower arrangements. This would help Near in keeping his sanity just slightly, but today, there was nothing. Near’s day had proven to be a very long one, and the clock had yet to even strike noon.

By the time 3 o’clock rolled by, the Orchid Boutique had quite the sour employee. Near did his best to avoid any customers around him. He knew that if one more person came to him with a mediocre excuse he would absolutely snap, so he went to an unoccupied corner to fill an empty section of flowers. The act in itself gave him a bit of room to breathe out his negative feelings. There was something about putting more flowers out into the world, having that hope that they were receive their proper, kind owner. It made him feel a little better, but unfortunately it only could do so much. 

Once the tulips were filled close to the brim, Near glanced at the clock. He had actually lost track of time with all the work he’d had been doing, and he hoped it was close to the time of him going home. But once he saw the small hand land on the four, he almost dropped the blooming blossoms in his arms. Suddenly, Near was stashing his supplies away, and hoping his time wouldn’t run out before he was fully prepared. Internally, he couldn’t believe that after almost three weeks of consistency, he had almost forgotten something so important. Perhaps the customers had affected him so much that it slipped from his thoughts, but Near had no time to dwell. No matter who was to blame,  _ _he__  would be here any moment.

Near had managed to bring himself up to the counter, with a nicely straightened apron and wrinkle-free gloves void from any dirt, just seconds before the front door burst open.

Just inside the flower shop stood a man with blond hair, a mean expression, and body dressed completely in black leather. From the horrified looks of most of the other customers in the shop, this man didn’t seem to belong in his current surroundings, but this didn’t bother him in the slightest. He had business to attend to.

The blond’s arms were crossed in front of his chest, his bright blue eyes narrowed as they scanned the flower shop for one individual in particular. Near held his breath, and contemplated going into the back room for more preparation, but it was too late. Before he could even step backwards, the new man spotted him, and with eyes still slanted he stomped his way to the counter. “By now you should know the drill, flower boy.” The customer grumbled, leaning against the onyx counter, looking completely irritated. 

Near took a deep inhale. “I’m sorry, Sir—”

“I told you, I hate being called Sir. It makes me feel old. I gave you my name the last time for a reason.“

“— Mello.” Near corrected uneasily, it feeling strange to call a customer by their natural name. He made sure to maintain the connection while also trying to avoid eye contact as much as possible. “It’s just that today has been- an off day. Welcome back.”

The blond’s brow raised up, somewhat shifting on his hip before he let it go, gesturing with his head towards the flowers out on display. “Well, I don’t have time to waste. Let’s get started.” Without another word, Mello turned his back on the other, walking to one of the nearby sections of flowers to gaze at them in critique. It left Near a moment to gather himself for the impending situation.

Twice a week, for nearly a month, this man (Mello, as he demanded) would come inside the Orchid Boutique. He demanded Near’s services of making one bouquet of his exact specifications each time. From the beginning, it was a strange, almost calculated event. Near recalled the first time seeing him from the moment where he wasn’t even a customer, just someone who walked past the store every so often. He was arranging a set of white lilies when he so happened to look up. Their eyes met from opposite sides of the thick display glass, grey to ice blue. It was rare for Near to see something dressed so rebelliously in public as Mello was, and the same most likely went for Mello in regards to his snow white hair and small stature. They stared at each other for a few moments, curiosity overtaking them before Mello broke the trance and stormed away. Near didn’t see the intriguing blond man for a few days before he suddenly came through the front door of the Orchid Boutique one afternoon. He spotted Near and that’s when it all began.

Near quickly collected his cutters and basket to gather the flowers in before they began a deliberate process of choosing. He spent a solid half an hour following Mello around as they went from type to type, waiting for him to decide with bated breath. Mello never picked a flower the first time; he would go around the shop at least several times before going back to a flower, and, after a scrutinizing look over, he would allow Near to cut it. Then the process would start over again until yet another flower was chosen.

As the wicker basket filled now with flowers swayed from his arm, Near made his way back to Mello after taking a minute break. He was in the section of flowers that had just been received for the store. He seemed the most interested in the Azalea, of the white variety. He gently touched the petals of the flower in a manner that made it out to look like priceless gem. Near was sure the other wasn’t even aware he was standing beside him by the focused, articulate gaze he held on the bloom. Mello went from one to the other, seemingly trying to narrow it down to find the perfect Azalea, just like the rest. But this time his expression wasn’t harsh or critical, it was soft and careful. It was almost a wonder to watch; out of everyone in the store, the coarse man had been the only one Near saw that cared for what he was purchasing. Leaning in, his spoke quietly, as to try and not disturb his focus. “Are you interested in those?”

The taller male jumped from the sudden voice. His head whipped to the side when he realized, giving the employee a tough look. ”If you were here to actually assist me then you’d realize that the answer is yes.” Mello mumbled, moving his attention back to the flower. His hand hovered over the one he had left off from, carefully reaching to expose it from the bunch . Near normally did not allow customers to take from the flowers themselves as they were too clumsy with them, but Mello had never been anything but careful. He held the fragile flower up to his eyes, and for a moment, Near swore he saw a smile on his face. 

After a moment of observation, Mello spoke down to Near, a faint thoughtfulness in his voice. “Do you know what Azalea’s symbolize?“

From their moments together, Near hadn’t expected such a question, as Mello had always proven to be a customer who knew what they desired with little hesitation. Not only that, but it was a rare moment to have someone ask about a practice he thought didn’t matter to most. “Well, yes, I do.” Near answered, subconsciously fiddling with his hands in front of him. “They’re a fragile flower symbolizing passion, vulnerability, and, most commonly-- first love.”

A moment went by before Mello seemed to acknowledge what the other said, as if he was allowing it to sink in fully. He stepped away from the flower, suddenly facing near and gesturing towards the pot of Azalea’s. “Cut the one I want, and make it quick. That’s enough for today.” He stomped away again, arms crossed as he left Near quite bewildered. He stared at that Azalea, having no issues with finding the same one. For a reason unbeknownst to him, it stood out from the rest, and filled him with a warm feeling that radiated in his chest. With his feelings put to the side, Near bent down to expertly cut the stem of the flower, placing it carefully in the basket.

When he returned, he saw Mello waiting at his counter. Near went behind it, emptying the basket’s content on the marble surface. He picked them up one at a time to arrange them in his hands, all the while Mello watched every move he made to ensure it was perfect. While he sorted through each flower, he couldn’t help but to glance up at him every so often, unable to push back the desire to take in more of his ill-tempered customer.

Near eventually was able to arrange the selection in a means that appeased Mello, albeit being the third try. Each flower had just enough room to fully marvel in it’s beauty, which Near took great pride in. Mello watched him admire the arrangement, but quickly scoffed and urged him to continue. “When you tie them together, you better use the quality white ribbon, not the cheap-o shit like last time. It’s insulting.” 

Of course Near obligated to his request, and soon the bouquet was tied and protected, perfect for a reveal to the world. It almost pained him to give them to the blond, but he knew Mello was not keen for any time to be wasted. He went to the register then, but before he could even finish typing the amount in, bills were being tossed on the counter. 

“I know how much it costs. Just take it already and give them here.” Mello bit out, which was strange to hear along with the careful way he was cradling the bouquet.

Near collected the bills and opened the register. Effortlessly he put each bill in their designated area, and waited for the receipt to print. Once it came, he reached over and pulled it from the slot, and Near started to face Mello once more. “Is there anything else you—“

Before he could finish his sentence, though, a loud ring of the doorbell chimed through the whole store. Mello was gone, without a single trace- except for the one on the counter.

The white-haired male gazed down, and yet again that strange warm feeling filled his chest. Sitting there in its grace was the bouquet, in the exact same position he always left it. Attached to the side was a note placed inconspicuously that only read the Initials ‘M.K,’ in beautiful calligraphy. Near let out a small breath as he cautiously picked up the bouquet in both hands, admiring every aspect of it. 

Going through hours of customers with no concern to their gifts, Mello was a treasure. Surely his bad temper lacked something to be desired, but Near saw through it easily. Every time he had came in the flower shop, Mello did not leave until he had put care, critique, and internal compassion into every bloom he chose. It was as if, even from miles away, he wanted the one who received them to know how much they mattered and were cared for. He barely knew who Mello was, or why he repeated this same process each time with no merit or reward, and yet Near felt as though he did.

As he stared down at the arrangement, Near swore the azalea he had placed in the center had much more of a calling than before. 


End file.
